


hunter x bride

by awkwardspaceturtle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Established Relationship, Gang AU, M/M, Obsession, Possessive Keith, Rape/Non-con Elements, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardspaceturtle/pseuds/awkwardspaceturtle
Summary: The raven-haired Boss crouches down to meet his eyes, the murderous intent in his gaze so heavy it seems almost tangible. “You useless ballsacs just put a target on the entire group’s back.”“B-boss…?”“Don’t you know who thisfucking manbelongs to?”(loosley based on Yamano Ayane's Viewfinder series)
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51
Collections: Bottom Shiro Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> drunk on bottom!shiro feels, sped-typed this until almost 1AM before a Monday. took unnecessarily long on settling on a title. will probably edit this before updating on the second chapter. also, Keith parading around in a suit and a sword.
> 
> rating will change to explicit for the next and final chapter
> 
> edit: changed the title again lmao. i just cant make my mind up

_Shit_ , Shiro thinks when he feels the hot load erupt in his throat. Fingers tighten roughly around his hair as the man shivered in ecstasy, his load spilling out of Shiro’s lips and onto his bloodied shirt. He closes his eyes just in time as the second man releases all over the right side of his face.

“Fuck…!”

Shiro almost gags. The scum of a man holding him still won’t let him go, milking his own cock in Shiro’s mouth for all he was worth.

The other one with the shaded glasses smugly slaps his slick cock against where it just dirtied Shiro’s cheek. “How do you like that, Mr. Journalist? You better give my cock a good write-up in the papers tomorrow.”

“What a fucking mess you are,” the first man jeers, finally pulling out. Shiro is more than relieved to get his face as far away from his pubic hair as possible. The darkness of the room regrettably strengthened his sense of smell. “Would look nice on the front page, don’t you think?”

Shiro might have growled if he wasn’t too occupied gagging on cum and trying to catch his breath. One way or another, he knows he has to find a way out of this, and reclaim his own camera that they used to document the entire humiliating act.

“What are you looking at me for, huh?” Without preamble, Pubes kicks him hard in the gut. Shiro keels over, wheezing. With his hands tied behind him, he can’t even reach around to nurse the pain on this stomach.

“Maybe sucking cock wasn’t enough,” Glasses offers darkly. Shiro looks up and sees him stroking himself, already gearing up for a second round. “Maybe he wants it up in his ass so bad.”

“What a damn toilet hole,” Pubes smirks. “Come back up here, you slut.”

“S-stop…!” Shiro tries to writhe away, but large hands quickly grab onto his legs and his belt buckle. He kicks and squirms with all the fight that hadn’t yet been knocked out of him, but is just as easily pinned down by the bigger men.

“Shut the fuck up.” Glasses grabs his face with more force than necessary and jams his cock in. Shiro chokes back a cry as he feels his boxers being pulled down his legs, cold air sending goosebumps all over his skin.

“Open wide for daddy now.”

Shiro makes another attempt at wiggling himself free when he feels the slick tip of Pubes’ cock poke against his hole. Unprepared, he thinks horribly of how he will get ripped apart. He doesn’t fucking want this.

Just as Pubes looked like he was about to make the first excruciating thrust, the door is forcibly thrown wide open. A couple more of their gang members come in, their bodies cast in shadow by the light of the room from where they came from. Just when Shiro thought things can’t possibly get even worse, it seemed that the universe had more plans to humiliate and torture him.

“Wanted to join the party, huh, Boss?” Pubes says over his shoulder.

Wordlessly, the man referred to as the Boss walks briskly towards Pubes, his long coat flying behind him. Without warning still, he lifts a gloved hand, and it comes down hard on Pube’s cheek. The sound of the slap rings loudly in the cramped room. Shiro’s legs come momentarily free as Pubes crouches down to the floor to cradle his throbbing cheek.

The Boss narrows his eyes darkly. “What the _fuck_ do garbage like you think you’re doing?”

“B-boss! We caught this guy snooping around the Greenwood base and taking pictures,” Glasses quickly explains in their defense, cock out and half-flaccid against Shiro’s cheek. “We tranq’d him and made sure to let him know who he was dealing with. We even deleted the pictures from his camera, and replaced them with new ones instead.”

Glasses tries for a victorious smile, believing what they’d done is for the protection of their group while rewarding themselves with a bit of sinful pleasure. No one returns his smile, and his face falters, nervous and afraid.

The raven-haired Boss ominously edges closer to Pubes. He crouches down to meet his eyes, the murderous intent in his gaze so heavy it seems almost tangible. “You useless ballsacs just put a target on the entire group’s back.”

“B-boss…?”

“Don’t you know _who this fucking man belongs to_?”

“W-wha…?”

Cold impatience washes over the Boss. He stomps his feet hard; Shiro hears the wet crunchy sound of soft flesh pounded by a steel-toed boot, and the raw painful cry of one of his abusers. The Boss’ hand comes down again, this time a hardened fist. Blood splatters onto the linoleum floor, along with something small and solid; a tooth, Shiro thinks grimly.

“This man,” the Boss continues, turning to Glasses and landing a couple more fists, “is the property of the _fucking_ Blade himself.”

Shiro freezes hotly at the sound of _his_ name. Glasses and Pubes are visibly shook, primal fear clouding their faces in an instant.

“Y-you mean… _the_ Blade?” Pubes says weakly through his swollen lip. “So the rumors about him taking a stray dog… it was _this_ guy?”

The Boss releases Glasses from his wrath for a bit to shoot Pubes with a death glare. Shiro doesn’t know when he made it to a corner of the room, his pants awkwardly hanging around his ankles. His mind is racing wildly to look for an opening to break free from this hellish scene.

“You couldn’t have just smashed the camera and left it at that, you miserable dickbags.” The Boss lands blow after blow, cracking bones with his fists and boots. “You had to make a fucking death wish and fucking drag this entire family with you.”

Glasses and Pubes plead for their lives, but the cloaked man is relentless. Shiro feels rather conflicted; he had thought of kicking them down in his way out of here somehow, but now he feels a little sorry for them. Even Blade himself wasn’t usually this brutal. He doesn’t think he has ever seen Blade leave his enemies to rot like bloodied meat slabs, not unless it was personal. Blade always makes swift kills, his skill with the sword impeccable and flawless.

Blade, the Army of One. Blade, the Extinction. Blade, the most beautiful harbinger of death Shiro had ever laid eyes on. Even in situations like this, Shiro still finds himself thinking of him. The thought of him brings him an odd mixture of comfort and unease.

“B-boss…” A low voice calls out nervously from the door. Shiro almost forgot that a fourth man had come in with him.

The Boss impatiently cranes his head to him, bloodied gloves stopped in midair. “What the _fuck_ is it, Deckhart?”

“Th-the siren…”

The Boss stills. No one makes a sound, not even to take a breath. The atmosphere in the room has taken a sharp turn, warped with a different kid of tension. In the ominous heavy silence, Shiro hears the faint unceasing cry of an emergency alarm from upstairs, foreboding and dire. Even fainter still, but he can make it all out now with clarity, the horrible sounds of gunshots and flesh tearing, of people screaming and begging for their lives.

A sense of mixed dread and relief rushes up his spine, sharp jagged and like ice. Shiro swallows dryly. _Why are you always saving me...?_

The Boss audibly grinds his teeth. “ _He_ ’s here--”

Just then, a long blade pierces through Deckhart’s neck from behind, impaling him. Nobody dares to make a move as his big wall of a body slumps a falls down forward, the wet sound of flesh sliding off a sword filling the room. He crumbles down hard onto the floor, revealing his killer standing right behind the door.

“Tsk, tsk. Look where you wandered off today, Shiro.”

Shiro winces. He begrudgingly catches himself before he starts to feel hopeful. _Why do you always find me?_

The slender young man makes his way inside, walking carefree over the corpse he’d just made. Even with his suit dirtied by blood and gore and gunpowder, he looks nothing short of mesmerizing to Shiro. His gory brilliance is too much; he has to look away, heart racing a million miles in his chest.

The Boss finds his voice. “B-Blade…!”

Blade doesn’t spare him any of his attention, his amethyst eyes immediately finding Shiro amid the mess of blood. Feeling Blade’s gaze wash all over him is making him even more nervous than he did all night. He catches the instant flare of anger in his eyes the minute he realizes what went down within these four walls. Shiro knows this is all going to get even worse.

Shiro pleads using the name Blade professed to him. “ _K-Keith…_ ”

Blade meets his gaze. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t worry, babe,” he smirks. His eyes are already surveying the scene for Shiro’s offenders. Shiro doesn’t think he has ever seen him this angry before. “I’ll try to make this quick.”

An obvious lie. Yet Shiro does nothing to stop it. He can’t, even if he wanted to.

Even bathed in blood, Keith looks dazzling. Only he was weird enough to still call him beautiful, Keith had told him.

The siren continues to wail its horrid requiem. Smoke fills the room, making Shiro dizzy. The last thing he sees before his eyes give up on him is the image of Keith dancing in a crimson haze, sword in hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut is taking me too long to write, so i've decided to break it into the next chapter... anyway, Keith became a bit too dark in my vision for this story, almost like the Kuro in my[ Shirocest series ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/540040), so proceed only if possessive Keith is your thing, i guess. anyways, this next chapter focuses more on the Sheith dynamic i wanted to present and explore in this fic more than smut, but i hope you find something to enjoy about it
> 
> :]

Shiro wakes up to the alarming sensation of drowning.

Abruptly, as if forced out of a dream, he opens his eyes to blinding porcelain white. His whole body automatically writhes manically in protest, his hands flying and hitting on something cold and solid. He feels a harsh tug and he is suddenly pulled out of the water by his hair.

More light, blinding; dark ebony hair, a face looming above him in shadow, smiling. They’re in a pristine marble bath in one of Keith’s hotels, far away from the nightmare that went down in a rival gang’s base.

“G-g-aah...!” Shiro coughs out, his lungs painfully protesting in his ribcage for air. His eyes sting with the water pouring down from his hair.

“Oh, good,” Keith comments softly into his ear, his smile impishly wicked. “It would have been pathetic if you drowned.”

“K-Keith..” Shiro is about to turn his head to face him until he feels sharp pain on his scalp.

“Good morning, love.” Keith gently presses their cheeks together, turning just right to plant a kiss on Shiro’s cheek. “I’ve missed you so badly.”

Shiro knows better than to carelessly sink into the sickly sweet nectar of Keith’s voice. If anything, gentle was not a word that came to mind when he thought of him. And yet he finds that he does that a lot -- think of Keith.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Shiro’s intention of sounding more rebellious falls short on weakened windpipes. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Keith’s response comes in the form of burying his nose in Shiro’s hair, and letting a hand snake down in a sensual stroke all over Shiro’s chest and torso until he finds the mound of a moon-shaped scar just resting at an angle above his pelvis. Shiro fights back the urge to melt into his touch, a task he finds quite difficult to master despite the frequency of which he’s had to face it.

That place most especially -- that mark on his skin that binds them together, with a twin scar reflected on Keith’s own stomach like a twisted marriage symbol to remind him of the night he chose the life of an underworld powerhouse over his own. The sword that impaled him managed to pierce through Keith as well, but it had been, as Keith continues to tell him to this day, the moment he knew he would follow him forever.

After that whole tirade was over and they had sat down, coughing in their own blood, Keith made this tasteless and cheesy joke about his heart being pierced instead.

Now, trapped in the familiar cage of his arms, Shiro trembles as Keith caresses his scar and breathes into his ear. His voice is low, the rustling of leaves on a dark night.

“No bride of mine would ever die that easy.”

“Who said anything about being your fucking bride--”

Shiro’s protests die in his throat as Keith lunges for a deep, wet kiss. His tongue and his lips held all the magic in the world to overcome all of Shiro’s senses, leaving his body limp and useless in a surging tide of heat and longing. Shiro has long since learned that Keith is always a little too much of everything -- a little too intense, a little too wild, a little too rough. And yet he cannot help but succumb to that ferocity, to that tenacious rejection of the everything else that wasn’t Shiro. He cannot help but keep on wanting to sink into that inky darkness with him, erasing everything.

Keith’s insistent lips suddenly break off and leave Shiro wanting, though God forbid he would let it be known that he has a kind of hunger can only be sated by Keith’s unwavering attention.

Just as Shiro is about to think that he can finally get some air, Keith pries his lips open with his thumbs and spits inside his mouth.

“You still fucking taste like another man’s cum,” Keith smiles darkly. Shiro knows better than to assume this is just some mild irritation. He’d seen fury back in that dark room; this is a version close to it. Shiro feels his fingers dig into his skin, shaking mildly. Keith’s hospitality has never let him leave unscathed.

Tracing his tongue over swollen lips, Keith whispers in the tone of a playful yet scornful child. “That piece of dogshit treated you like a toilet , Shiro. That fucking nobody dared to disrespect me and my property.”

“Keith…” Shiro winces at his hair being pulled back yet again. “What have you done?”

In response, Keith winds his arms around him tighter in a lover’s embrace. Shiro always finds himself at a crossroads; the desire to push him away is just as strong as the need to hold onto him. Keith’s voice is a snake’s kiss, a poisoned apple, a sultry temptation that cannot be trusted.

“I won’t stop you from running away from me, Shiro, but when you do, don’t you ever forget that the entire world gets to pay for your insolence.”

Shiro swallows hard. Keith’s word is always true, unwavering, like the gravity that holds everything to the earth. If it escapes his lips, it has become law in his book, word set in stone.

Just like a grim wedding vow.


End file.
